Hope
by charredfeathers
Summary: She loves someone else. The mantra reverberated in his head, but he continues to believe that maybe- just maybe, he has the slightest -smallest- chance.


**Hope**

….

**Summary: **_She loves someone else. _The mantra reverberated in his head, but he continues to believe that maybe- just maybe, he has the slightest _-smallest- _chance.

**Author-person: **I've told (promised) some people that I would try to write something a little less angsty for Code Geass.

So, uhm, sorry.

I was actually trying to put together a fluffy KaLulu one-shot, but this idea was stuck in my head for DAYS. It just wouldn't leave me be…The pairing is GinoxKallen, by the way but there is a little one-sided KallenxLelouch.

This is set a little before 'the wedding'.

Oh, and it's my first time writing something like this. Please take note of the **T **rating.

OOC-ness

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Code Geass

….

She shivers from under his bear-printed covers, curled up in an awkward ball at the end of the bed, taking shallow breaths and eyes shut tight. She holds her knees closer to her chest and hears her own erratic heartbeat pounding in her ears, giving irregular thumps against her ribcage. Louder, softer, softer and louder like the beating of worn drum, too battered and used to even seem alive.

She feels her nails digging into her skin, her teeth chewing on her lip, and it fucking _hurts._

But she is willing to endure.

He looks at her from across his room, blue eyes filled with pity and concern and everything else in between. His usual smile is gone and is replaced with a slight frown as he watches her gasp and sob and whisper _his _name.

Forcing his arms to fold across his chest, he tries to hide his shaking, clammy hands that are balled into tight fists.

He stops himself from doing anything stupid. Stops himself from reaching out to her, taking her in his arms and pulling her to his chest. Stops himself from stroking her hair _-her red, red hair-_ and whispering reassuring _-comforting-_ words in her ear.

Because he knows that she will only hurt more, that she will only feel weak and vulnerable. And he knows that she doesn't want to be deemed as such.

He hears _his _name again, and he can't help but curse under his breath.

_LelouchLelouchLelouch._

Gino closes his eyes and laughs mirthlessly.

He is SUCH a masochist.

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.

The first time he sees her wallowing in misery, he had to double take in sheer disbelief.

She was sitting on the sidewalk, head bowed against the pelting rain and knees drawn to her chest, like a child who's lost her mother in a bustling crowd of faceless people.

But there is no crowd and she isn't a child. She's a former terrorist still donning her black uniform for all to see.

He blinks in confusion but he doesn't hesitate to run to her and offer her his bright pink umbrella and his all-too cheerful smile. Like he always does, he tells himself and barely manages to keep his forehead crease-free. No, he doesn't want her to see him worrying about her.

Because that wouldn't be the bright and annoyingly cheerful Gino she was so used to.

The next thing he knew she was cradled in his arms and he was taking her home, the pink umbrella already lay forgotten on the dreary sidewalk.

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It's been four months since then.

Sometimes he wonders why he even bothers to take care of her. She never thanks him, never acknowledges, never _sees. _She's just there. A lifeless marionette who's lost her puppeteer. A dog who's lost her master. A lover who's lost her heart.

She never regards him with anything but a nod when she enters his home, never really speaks to him except when she's asking for directions to the bathroom, because she always_, always, _forgets.

Gino wishes that she would stop using his house as some sort of secret hideaway. A place where she could take off her smiling mask and a place to drown in her heartbreak, in her sadness, in her hell. And he thinks about telling her off, telling her to get out of his room and go crying to Ougi, or Tamaki or even Milly. But he remembers suddenly, that they all had their happy endings, and that this girl was unjustly deprived of hers.

So he subdues his irritation-- not anger _-never anger-_because, for the most obvious reason in the world, he can't bring himself to hate her even the teensiest bit.

He reminds himself that the others can never fully understand her pain and only he can soothe her anguish and endure her grating sobs.

Because like her, his love is unrequited.

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He loves her. God knows he does _-so much- _and he wonders over and over why she doesn't see him as someone worth giving her heart to. He thinks that maybe he hasn't tried hard enough. That his understanding, and concern and soft, warm blankets aren't enough to shelter her from the cold, harsh world. And maybe, deep inside his heart, he knows that it's the truth.

But even with that knowledge, he can't offer her anything else. He can't offer her consolation or comfort. He can't touch her, can't let his fingers brush against her skin, can't let himself drown in those pools of blue.

_She loves someone else. _The mantra reverberated in his head, but he continues to believe that maybe- just maybe, he has the slightest _-smallest-_ chance.

Gino is stubborn like that, and he isn't ashamed.

But one time, when he allowed himself to be selfish... when he dared to show her the slightest sign of intimacy...

Like Icarus, he fell.

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She tastes like honey. Too sweet that it burns his tongue.

Her nails rake on his back, biting, digging into his flesh, and he's sure they're going leave scars for tomorrow… but he doesn't care. His lips continue to assault hers, and with a barely suppressed groan, he nips further and feels her fingers curling against his back.

Their bodies graze and press together, threads of air and beads of sweat merging them as one. His lips move to her neck, planting feather light kisses as he moves to the gentle rhythm of an unheard melody, careful not to hurt, careful not to drown in his euphoria.

Gino feels her tense from under him.

He hesitates again as he looks at the glazed blue of her eyes, and wishes -_hopes- _that she doesn't see him as someone else. Uncertainty ripples throughout his body as he buries his face in the crook of her neck, taking in their mixed scents and clenching his eyes shut in frustration.

He feels the guilt slowly creeping in and thinks that, perhaps, it is wrong to do this to her. But it is too late now, and all he can do is whisper a soft apology.

They are a tangle of limbs under his covers _-penguins this time-, _their arms and legs entangled in messy sprawl. He holds her close, listening to her even breathing and gazing at her face illuminated by the faint glow of the moon. His eyes widen in surprise as he moves to touch her cheek.

Gino smiles.

For first time in months, her face is a sea of calm.

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His mouth is pressed in a thin line as he reaches for the knob, damp towel slung over his shoulder and hair dripping water onto the plush carpeting outside of his room. He exhales audibly and closes his eyes, expecting hell the moment he pushes the door open.

But all he sees is Kallen sitting on his bed, wearing his overly large t-shirt and fumbling with the sheets.

She looks up at him, eyes a mixture of anxiousness and embarrassment. She grins prettily as he walks over to brush a stray lock of hair from her face.

"Gino." She acknowledges, and wraps her arms around his neck.

He sheds a single tear of relief.

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**Author-person: **asdfghjkl

I'm incoherent, now. Sorry.

Please review because comments are VERY much appreciated. _-drowns in sea of rotten tomatoes-_


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